


put this song (on replay)

by naheka



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Breathplay, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, Lingerie, M/M, Oral Sex, Photography, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-06 17:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18392930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naheka/pseuds/naheka
Summary: Dick has a case and a plan; Jason's had a crush since he was fourteen.





	1. like a polaroid picture

**Author's Note:**

> Not proofread!!!!! We post without editing like straight men.

Jason’s already pointing a gun at him by the time Dick climbs through his window. To his credit, Dick doesn’t seem at all surprised. “Little wing,” he greets cheerfully, arms flung wide for a hug. There’s a short, disbelieving pause from Jason. “No?”

Jason curls his finger around the trigger.

Dick drops his arms and most of his sunny pretext. “There’s a case,” he says. “I need a favour.”

“Ask somebody else.”

“Aw, but _Jason_.” Dick’s circus smile, bright enough to light up the moon and just as distant. “You’re the _only_ one I can trust.”

Jason stares at him. Then he sighs, and puts the gun down on his coffee table. “You want a drink?”

Dick follows him into the kitchen. “Won’t say no.”

There’s a couple cans of cheap beer in the back of the fridge that are probably left over from the last time Roy relapsed; he rolls one across the counter, where it falls off. Dick catches it before it hits the ground, popping the tab with barely any hiss at all. He sips, grimaces. “Gross.”

Jason chugs his, not at all to make a point. When he’s drained it dry, Dick slides his own can over, eyebrow raised in a challenge. Jason grits his teeth, then swallows in long gulps. He crushes the empty can with his palm. Dick claps. 

“Alright,” Jason says, swallowing a burp. “Out with it.”

“Undercover gig, barefaced.”

Jason pulls a face. “Pretty dumb play for the goldenbird.”

“Everyone thinks you’re dead,” Dick points out. “And you don’t look like the shrimpy fifteen year old we buried.”

“You’re still shrimpy,” Jason snarks back. “And I said it was a dumb play for _you_.” Even despite efforts, people know Dick Grayson. He’d maybe have been able to fade into obscurity if he wasn’t so fucking drop dead memorable. Jason knew it just the same as anybody with eyes at fourteen and even into his twenties and with a conscious effort and all the violence between them, he still knows it. 

Dick blinks, genuine surprise flitting across his face. His smile is less showman and more himself, warm and solid and real. “Your concern is noted. But this is an approved plan.”

“Oh,” Jason says, high pitched and dripping with fabricated apology. He clasps a hand to his heart. “If _Daddy Bats_ says so, then I’ll drop everything and come at once. Why didn’t you _say_ \--”

“Approved by Oracle,” Dick informs him, and Jason stops short, dropping the act to frown. “And I’m telling Bruce you called him ‘daddy’.”

“And she approved me?”

“Approve is a strong word for what she thinks of you,” Dick says politely.

It makes Jason grin. He’s always liked Babs. “Alright, Dickwad. Lay it on me.”

“Sure thing, honeybunch. Human trafficking ring that targets newcomers to the city, posing as a modeling agency. Snaps them up, ships them out, makes it look like just another victim of big bad Gotham.”

“And the play?”

Dick flutters his eyelashes. “Do you think I’m pretty, Jay?”

Christ, the mouth on him. “Don’t fish for compliments. You don’t need me to pose as a model.”

“Need someone on the other side of things. Who better than the big bad Hood?”

“I don’t human traffick,” Jason snarls. “If that’s what you think of me, you can--”

“Jason,” Dick says, neatly cutting him off before he can really get going. “C’mon. Of course not. But you’ve never had a trafficker in your territory before. The last two victims were both from the Narrows. This can be your statement.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Catch?”

“Don’t play coy after you came here looking for me to make you my boy, _big brother_. Last I heard you still abide by the Bat’s number one rule, and you know there’s only one way I’d deal with the head of a trafficking ring.”

Dick puts a usb stick on the counter. “Because if he turns evidence, it’ll take down an international ring. And I know you’d realize that’s the better goal.”

Jason’s teeth grind. “I don’t like bein’ backed into a corner.”

“I know. Think about it. We’ve got a Plan B if you’re not up for it.” He slips halfway out the window, perched on the wall like it’s a bench and not a ninety degree angle to the floor. “You got my number.”

Jason sighs. “Yeah,” he says to his empty apartment. “I got your number.”

++

He holds out for almost two days. Then he shoots Dick a text. 

Dick’s waiting for him when he gets home, in civvies. “I’ve been doing my own investigating,” Jason says, before Dick can so much as greet him. “You were right about it happening in the Narrows.” His scowl darkens his whole face. “It’s unacceptable. So for this case, your rules. But you owe me.”

Dick’s eating Jason’s leftover orange chicken with his fingers. “Name your price.”

“Carte blanche.”

Dick looks up, eyebrows raised. “You’re joking.”

“Did that sound like a pun to you? Something unnamed, to be cashed in the future.”

“I reserve the right to decline.”

Jason shrugs, speaking casually to hide the racing of his heart and the nervous sweat on the back of his neck. “Sure, I’m about consent anyway.”

“Is that so,” Dick murmurs, lashes fluttering. Then he stands, handing Jason the carton of food as he goes. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Clear the living room.”

“Clear,” Jason sputters. “Hey!”

Dick doesn’t turn, holding up a hand in farewell. “Excited to work together again, Robin!” He dodges left suddenly, and the carton of chicken smacks against the wall through the air he’d been just a second before. “Seeya tomorrow!”

The door clicks behind him. Chicken slides down the wall in a trail of sauce and plops onto the floor. Jason sighs.

++

He clears the living room the next morning, shoving the couch into the hallway and the small table into the kitchen. Then he showers, and makes coffee. After a few minutes, he starts some eggs going, a few strips of bacon.

Dick appears while he’s digging in. “Ooh,” he says, and tries to sneak a piece of bacon off Jason’s plate. Jason stabs him with his fork, not hard enough to draw blood, and Dick yelps. Then he pouts. “But I’m hungry.”

“Not my problem.” Jason eats the last bite, then dumps his plate and fork into the sink. “What are we doing in my living room? Should I lay down a tarp?”

“What? No.” Dick rummages in his backpack. He comes out with a camera that looks like it costs more than a year’s rent on Jason’s place. “Up for playing photographer?”

Jason takes the camera, fingers careful and light. It’s just as expensive as he first pegged it for. “Why?”

Dick’s moving into the living room, kicking off his shoes. “We’ll try it with the blinds closed first,” he decides, surveying the window and the light slanting in. “No time for professional lighting.”

“Dick.”

Dick turns, hands on his hips. “I’m a model, right? I need modeling photos.” He starts to unbutton his shirt. 

Jason sputters, trying to will away the blush in his cheeks and wishing it was appropriate to have his helmet on. “Can’t Barbara--”

“Why photoshop when we can get the real thing?” Dick strips his shirt off and tosses it into the far corner. He starts on his belt. “Plus the amateur nature of them will sell that I’m looking for something up the ladder.” His belt buckle makes a metal clink when it hits the floor. 

Jason fiddles with the camera to have something for his hands to do. The settings are complicated, and by the time he’s got it figured out he’s feeling calmer. Then he looks up and chokes on his own spit. 

Dick’s pants are gone; he’s standing in Jason’s living room in-- “Is that _women’s_ underwear?”

Dick peers down at himself. “Yeah. You like it? Steph and Cass lent me some stuff.”

“Not to beat a dead horse,” Jason says, “but our family is fucked up.”

Dick does a little twirl for him. “I’ve got the bras too, but I think this is alright to start.”

“Sure,” Jason sighs. This is his life. “Okay. Did Steph and Cass teach you poses?”

“Ah,” Dick says. “We may not have gotten to that.” He stands in the middle of the room, then puts a hand on his hip and tilts his head back. “How’s that?”

Jason’s mouth has gone dry. “You look like a stork.” He sets the camera down. “Help me with this.”

They drag Jason’s couch back out, positioning it artfully askew. “You don’t have air?” Dick asks. It’s mid-morning now, and with the couch and the window closed, it’s noticeably warm. Jason had stripped his hoodie off, and there’s a very faint sheen to Dick’s skin. It’s not… unappealing. 

“No,” he grunts, and steps back, gesturing at the sofa. “Unleash your inner Next Top Model.”

Dick drapes himself over the pleather, propping a leg up onto one arm and pillowing his arm under his head. “Oh shit,” he mutters, his other hand going to his crotch. “Almost fell out.” His fingers move over the pale pink satin, brushing the little ribbon bows along the edges. He’s adjusting himself, Jason realizes suddenly, the outline of his cock clear even covered, and he shudders. 

“Like that,” he says, and his voice has dropped, low and throaty. “Stay like that.”

Dick tilts his head. “Jay?”

Jason steps back, bringing the camera up to his face. “I said hold that pose.”

“Okay.” Dick stills, one hand under his head, the other on his cock, the pink a pretty contrast against the dusk of his skin, his throat exposed. 

Jason doesn’t take the picture. “You shave for this?”

Dick smiles, slow and sultry, his eyes flutter halfway shut. “Waxed.”

The shutter click of the camera goes off, once and twice and then three times. Jason moves, trying different angles. Then he returns to his original position. “Okay. You can move your hand.”

It lands at Dick’s side. “Any ideas?”

“Sit up a little--no, that’s too much.”

Dick eases back down, then rises just a few inches, using his core. “Here?”

“Yes.” It’s just enough to define the lean muscles in his abdomen. “Bend your arm against the back. And flex a little.” Dick obliges, and now he’s really on display, the slender bulge of his bicep and tricep and all the power packed within. Jason steps close, bending over. He drags his hand through Dick’s hair, ruffling it, then pulls a little over his eyes, creating a dark curtain. “Open your eyes.”

Dick’s eyes are blue blue blue, bright and a shade darker than usual. His pupils are big and dark; his chest rises and falls in quickened breath. “Alright?” he murmurs, and its sex drenched.

“Yes.” Jason’s hand is still on Dick’s head. He drags it down the side, cupping Dick’s cheek and letting his thumb brush Dick’s lips. His tongue flickers out. They part. “Like that,” Jason says, withdrawing before his tongue can brush Jason’s skin. “Just like that.”

The camera clicks, over and over. Jason realizes he’s muttering things like _yeah_ and _just like that, prettybird, bite your lip for me_ and other nonsense, praise and cooing little compliments, and Dick’s so hard in those pretty pink panties. 

“Okay,” Jason says. “I think--”

“One more?” Dick asks, sitting up out of the pose and stretching until his back cracks. Jason thinks that Dick can probably put both legs behind his head, no problem. It’s an intriguing notion.

“Sit like that,” Jason decides, “look straight ahead. Put your feet on the floor and spread your legs.”

Dick obeys. He swallows, and Jason watches his throat work, watches his thighs part. Then he slips the strap of the camera around his neck. 

“Like that,” Jason says, and then kneels between Dick’s spread legs.

Dick’s breath catches. Jason touches Dick’s wrists, nudging them away so he can palm Dick’s knees, fingers digging in to make Dick flinch, then smoothing apologetically over the indents before sliding up up up his thighs. Dick shudders, eyes slipping closed, his teeth sunk into his lower lip. Jason traces the edges of the panties with his thumbs. 

“Real pretty choice,” he gravels. “Gotta send Steph a thank you note.”

Dick laughs, muscles jumping with mirth. “Not for Cass?”

“She wouldn’t appreciate a thank you note from me.” Daring, Jason nips Dick’s inner thigh.

Dick yelps. Then his hand winds in Jason’s hair, tugging warningly. Jason drags two knuckles down the length of Dick’s cock and Dick moans, his hand going lax and his knees spreading wider. “Fuck,” he exhales. 

“You sure?” Jason asks. “Dick--”

DIck flicks him in the ear. “Oh shuddup Jason, I’m leaking through Stephanie’s panties over here.”

“Gross,” Jason says, and then, hypocritically, licks up Dick’s cock over said panties.

Dick’s hips jump; he’s moaning again. There’s a wet spot growing on the fabric, a darker pink than the rest of it. Jason licks that too, then shuffles closer, sitting up on his heels. He rubs against Dick until Dick’s jerking, fucking himself up in a grind against Jason’s palm. “Ah,” he mutters weakly, eyes fluttering shit. “A-ah--”

“Mmhm,” Jason growls, dragging his teeth from under Dick’s ear to his collarbone, hard enough to leave red lines in his wake. “You’ve got some pretty noises, birdie. Let me hear it, Dickie, c’mon.”

Dick’s moans ratchet up. One hand curls around Jason’s wrist, gripping weakly. His legs are shaking. 

“Gonna make a mess?” Jason asks, panting. He climbs up, straddling Dick and grinding down once before sliding back and sticking his hand down Dick’s panties. He pulls out Dick’s cock, swollen and slick, and starts a slide of his hand on up and down that leaves Dick arching up, whimpering. “Gonna come all over yourself?”

“Yeah,” Dick whispers, eyes glazed. “Fuck, _Jason_.”

“You can come,” Jason says, and he’s breathless and sweating and rock hard, still fully clothed and Dick’s precum on his skin. “I want you to. I’ve been thinking about sticking those panties in your mouth and bending you over, I’ve been thinking about my hand around your throat, I--”

Dick goes still, chest heaving, then flinches. He comes in a gasping shudder, spurting weakly, trembling all over. His hand is wet and sticky, smearing against Dick’s belly. Jason jacks him through it, slow gentle movements. “Been thinkin’ about asking you over for dinner,” Jason says softly, right in Dick’s ear. “Been thinkin’ about cooking for you.” He keeps going, until Dick is whimpering with the stimulation. Then he tucks Dick’s cock back beneath the waistband and stands. 

Debauched and marked up, panting with exertion and his belly striped in his own cum, the half ripped look of the panties. His lips are red and swollen, his pulse fluttering in his throat. He looks at Jason through his lashes.

“Just like that,” Jason murmurs, and brings the camera up to his face.


	2. you're just made for love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You are,” Jason says. “You always have been.”_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Dick’s eyes sharpen. “Have I?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not at all beta-ed or proofread!! my apologies.
> 
> This chapter includes: light exhibitionism, light power dynamics, light breathplay, oral sex.

Jason comes home to a coffee table of Dick. 

The photos have been printed on glossy paper and artfully skewed across the wooden tabletop--Jason can tell they’re altered from the ones he originally took, only slightly. Lighting adjusted, even some careful cropping to highlight--Jesus, to highlight the curve of Dick’s spine and the bow of his lips. 

Jason’s mouth goes dry just looking at him.

There’s a post-it stuck to the edge of the table. _Pick three, I’ll be home by midnight_.

Home, Jason thinks, with a thoughtful frown. It’s already a quarter to twelve and Jason’s nowhere near Bludhaven, why would Dick come all the way to Gotham just to tell him to--

Dick climbs through the formerly secured window and drops lightly to the ground. Still in a domino mask, he grins. “Heya.”

Jason grunts at him, the word _home_ vibrating in his head. “Why only three?”

“Don’t want my portfolio to look too extensive.” Dick perches on the back of the sofa like his old namesake, arms dangling and balance effortless. “Did you pick?”

Jason chooses three, mostly at random. There’s all goddamn incredible. But Dick makes a pleased noise when he hands them over, so he supposes he’s still got taste. If there’s any kind of art he can appreciate, it’s Dick Grayson looking fucked out and wanting more. The pink panties were just a bonus.

Dick tucks the photographs into a leather portfolio cover (from _where_ , that suit is pure lycra, Jesus Christ), then goes boneless, flowing down the back of the couch until he’s draped over it, lying on his back with his feet propped up and an arm under his head. “You got anything to eat?”

Jason raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Skipped dinner before patrol?”

Dick rolls a single shoulder, unperturbed and still smiling. “Didn’t you offer to cook for me?”

Jason turns to go into the kitchen to hide his expression. “I never offered, I said I was thinkin’ about it, that’s all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Dick raise a hand into the air and make a _meh_ gesture, tilting his palm back and forth. Then he goes up into a handstand on the back of the couch, toes pointed towards the ceiling, before landing soundlessly on the carpet and ambling after Jason into the kitchen. He hops up onto the counter, legs swinging. “You’re the one Alfred loved best.”

Jason ruthlessly quashes the warm flush of hope the words spark in his chest. “Who?”

Dick clucks his tongue. “Don’t be like that. Aren’t you and B in an okay place right now?”

Jason stills, the fridge half open, his arm extended for the bag of bok chuy hidden behind a six pack. He’d gone out for better beer the day after he and Dick had--

“Just because,” he says, voice low and buzzing with danger, “we aren’t trying to kill each other right now doesn’t mean we’re ‘okay’.”

There’s a short, significant silence. “Alright,” Dick says quietly. “I understand.”

“You don’t,” Jason snaps, and Dick’s gone still too, unnaturally so. Jason’s only seen him statuesque a few times--and one of them was at the memorial for that West kid. 

“Don’t I,” he comments, voice mild. Jason has enough time to think about it, all the times B helped life kick Dick to his knees. Then Dick’s feet start swinging again, his smile back, bright and cheery. “What’s for dinner?”

“Stir fry,” Jason says. He’s too tired to dig into all of that, too tired of himself and too tired to take on someone else. He leans further into the fridge, squinting at its meager offerings. “Chicken or beef?”

“Chicken,” Dick says, from very close behind him. When Jason turns, a package of chicken thighs in one hand, Dick’s still smiling, but it’s darker and subtler, something untamed in the tipped up corners of his mouth. “Hello, Jason.”

“Uh,” Jason says. “Hi, Dickface. What are you--”

Dick kisses him, light and fleeting, steals the words off his tongue and the breath from his chest. “Bok chuy,” he says, the same way he might have murmured _fourteen karat_. “You’re too good to me.”

“Mmhm,” Jason says, not really listening. He drags his bare fingers down the front of Dick’s suit, across the breast of the bluebird on his chest. The material is warm under his fingers, rippling and giving under the pressure, strong enough to blunt a knife and stop a bullet and thin enough for him to feel the heat of Dick’s body underneath. “Hold up your hand,” Jason murmurs, dipping in close to nuzzle his nose up Dick’s jaw. 

Dick shivers, backing up against the counter and Jason crowding closer with every step, until his back is arched against the edge of it and Jason’s pressed into him, hip to hip and his palm low on the curve of Dick’s spine. 

“Your hand,” Jason orders, his voice rough and demanding, and Dick’s hips twitch up. Then he raises his hand up into the air, making a questioning noise in his throat. “Straighter out,” Jason directs. Then he traces that blue blue streak, the spread wing of the bird on Dick’s pectoral muscle out across his shoulder as it tapers into a streak, all along his arm, skimming his bicep and then his forearm and his wrist and finally those two fingers, bright against the black. He brings Dick’s hand to his mouth and licks up his gloved palm, messy and spit-slick.

Dick moans, soft and sweet, and kisses Jason through the ‘v’ of his own fingers, shameless. “Tease,” he accuses, voice breathless and wanting.

Jason lifts him, feet braced and Dick moves with him, their hands shifting into an effortless grip. Back up on the counter, and Jason’s hands around his wrists, laying them palm flat against the edge. “You ain’t seen it yet,” Jason tells him, and nips under Dick’s ear, hard enough to make him yelp. A ghost of a touch over his crotch and yeah, Dick’s interested in what’s happening, he’s plenty interested. “Don’t move.”

Then Jason turns, discreetly adjusts himself, and starts puttering around the kitchen. Gets the finicky gas stove lit, gets a pan heating up on it. Pulls out a few jars of spices and starts slicing up the vegetables. 

Dick makes a grumbly noise.

“Patience,” Jason tells him, without looking up. “You’re the one who wanted dinner first.”

“Little too late for dinner first,” Dick mutters, and Jason’s knife skitters sideways on the wooden cutting board. 

He clears his throat. “Whose fault is that, anyway?”

Jason refuses to look, but he can tell Dick is smirking. “Oh, I don’t mind taking the credit.”

“ _All_ the credit?” Jason keeps his tone light and teasing. “You gotta way of makin’ a man feel unnecessary.”

“I would never say that,” Dick practically purrs, and Jason sways towards him before stopping.

He points with the knife. “Stop trying to distract me.”

“Why? It’s working.”

The cheek of him, Jason thinks, and then he tosses the knife, point first. 

Dick catches it on the pad of his index finger, moving with the momentum until it’s balanced right on the sharp tip of it. “Careful,” he says idly, rotating his wrist until the blade turns, the flat of it glinting under the dim lights of the kitchen. He drops his hand and the knife falls; he catches it point down: a fighting grip. “I’ll think you mean it, one of these days.”

“Maybe one of these days I will,” Jason says, and dumps everything into the pan to hear it sizzle.

++

They talk shop over dinner, Dick still on the counter where Jason put him and Jason leaning up against the fridge. Dick explains the plan between quick neat bites, smiling with the spice hits the back of his throat. “Alfred still keeps hot sauce around for you.”

Jason pauses in the act of dropping his bowl into the sink. “He does?” Alfred had sniffed every time Jason had used anything more on his cooking than one twist of black pepper on his food, like Jason had insulted his dead mother instead of just wanting seasoning a little stronger than a pinch of salt.

“Mmhm.” Dick reaches out, wiggling his empty bowl at Jason. “I’m not allowed to move,” he reminds him.

Jason rolls his eyes, but he also takes Dick’s bowl and drops it along with his. So what, only Dick’s allowed to send mixed messages? “Good boy,” he says off-handedly, and smiles when Dick’s lashes flutter, when his feet flex like his toes are curling. “Are you sure you want to go in together?”

Dick frowns, eyes shuttering under his closed lids as he thinks. “Yes,” he decides, opening them. “It’d be too much of a coincidence, acting out a first meet with eyes on us. It’s less of a reach that I’m a pretty sidepiece and you’re angling to use me to break into a new market.”

Jason shrugs. “You’re the man with the plan.”

“And you’re always so pleased to follow someone else’s lead.”

“In this instance the perks are good enough I don’t mind.”

Dick’s eyes sharpen. “Is that so.”

Jason meets his gaze, steady and wanting. “It is.” 

Dick nods once, thoughtful. “It’s late,” he says, looking to the window. “Or early, depending how you look at it.”

Jason lets the moment pass without further comment. “When’s the play?”

“Saturday. I’ll send you the details; we’ll meet at a safehouse of your choosing before heading out together.”

“I’ll arrange transportation,” Jason says quickly, and then when Dick looks like he might argue: “if it’s the Red Hood playing, let the Red Hood play.”

Dick nods. “Fine. Don’t forget the rules of the game.”

Jason thinks about all the things he can’t remember, smiling a mirthless smile. “I never forget a thing.”

++

Jason puts a few things in order, enough that his operations are running smoothly without his active participation for a few days, leaving him free to direct his attention elsewhere. 

Elsewhere comes on Saturday, in the form of Dick Grayson in jeans that look positively painted on. And-- “Are you seriously standing in my safehouse in a mesh shirt.”

Dick winks. “There’s fishnets under my jeans.”

Jason is one hundred percent positive there absolutely isn’t, because there’s no way anything at all could be under those jeans with how tight they are. It’s not an unattractive observation. Still. “I thought you were posing as a model, not a rent boy. Can you even breathe in that?”

“Aw,” Dick coos. “Your concern warms my heart.” He dodges the elbow Jason throws at his face. “Don’t damage the merchandise, Hood. Go change so we can go.”

Jason looks down at himself. “Change?”

“Yeah, change. No rush, nobody likes people who show up to the party on time.” When Jason still looks clueless, Dick props his hands on his hips. “Are you serious? You’re not wearing that to a sex club.”

“Well I don’t walk around with extra outfits,” Jason snipes back. “And I don’t see the problem.” He’s wearing combat books, black cargo pants, his brown leather jacket over a t-shirt. “I took the helmet off.”

Dick sighs. Then he steps close, eyes sharp and scrutinizing. Jason refuses to retreat, but he scowls, stuff and awkward while Dick ruffles at his hair and runs his hands down the outside of Jason’s thighs, fingernails scraping over the holsters. 

“I could take those off,” Jason allows grudgingly. He reaches for the buckle and Dick makes a sharp noise, stopping him.

“No. Those are good.”

“Yeah?”

Dick’s eyes are dark, the pupils blown and the blue as deep as the sea. His palm turns up, cupping over Jason’s jockstrap. “Oh yeah.”

Then he plucks liquid eyeliner out of thin air and stabs Jason in the eye with it. “Ow, what the fuck!” 

“Don’t be a baby.” Dick comes at him again, wand extended, and Jason wards him off, one eye still screwed shut. “I know Bruce made us all crossdress, it’s just part of the Robin experience.”

“It’s not the make up I was objecting to,” Jason snaps, snatching the eyeliner away from Dick’s fingers. “It’s your piss poor technique.”

Dick produces another tube and starts on his own eyes. “Smudge it a little,” he says, while Jason turns to head for the bathroom because he’s not the kind of circus freak who can apply it without a mirror. “It’ll look good on you.”

Jason looks at himself in the mirror, the cowlick in his hair that won’t go flat. He sighs. Just enough to outline his eyes and make the color pop, before he sets the eyeliner aside. _It’ll look good on you_ , he thinks, then licks a finger and drags it across his upper and lower lashline. Smudged and applied too thick, he looks like the kind of bad boy fathers warn their daughters about. “Or like a boyband reject,” he mutters, and heads back out.

Dick’s shirt is, in fact, all mesh, his hoodie discarded on the floor. Just enough product in his hair to tame the most of its wave and fuck if he didn’t put Jason’s own eyeliner to shame. He makes it look like it was invented just for him to use. “I like it,” Dick drawls, dragging his eyes up and down Jason’s frame. “We taking the bike.”

Jason grunts in acknowledgment.

“One last thing,” Dick says, and he moves like a meta, closing the distance between them before Jason can blink. He kisses Jason, all teeth, and drags his tongue across Jason’s red-bitten lips before retreating. Then he undoes Jason’s belt. 

“Don’t think you wanna be that late to the party,” Jason warns, catching Dick by the wrist. 

“Easy big guy,” Dick murmurs, nipping at Jason’s earlobe. His fingers slip out of Jason’s lax grip and down his boxers. A few twists and they retreat, the jockstrap dangling before he lets it drop to the floor. He does up Jason’s pants, his belt, then steps back. “Alright?”

Jason grabs a fistful of that hair and bares Dick’s neck. Dick goes up on his toes, eyes half-lidded, and Jason sinks his teeth into Dick’s throat, suckling until he tastes copper. When he lets up he can see the outline of Dick’s cock against the seam of his jeans, the indent of his teeth on Dick’s neck, and the bruise, red and swollen and purpling at the edges. “Alright,” he agrees.

++

They park in front of the club, ignoring the signs, and the line parts before them, the red domino on Jason’s face warning them away. The bouncer lets him in with a respectful nod and the music hits them like a wall, the bass pounding. 

Jason crowds close, his hand on the small of Dick’s back, and steers him towards the VIP room through the dance floor. It takes longer than it should, because Dick strays away to dance a few times, mesmerizing enough that it always takes Jason a few minutes to shove away his admirers and collect him.

“You’re a menace,” he growls when they’ve cleared the dance floor, pushing Dick up against the wall and leaning in to speak right into Dick’s ear.

Dick arches up against him. “Gotta stir interest, baby.” His eyes flick sideways, identifying the eyes on them.

Jason growls again. He flicks a sharp finger against the bitemark on Dick’s throat and Dick’s breath hitches. He pushes his thumb into it, merciless, and Dick’s eyes roll back in his head. “No more distractions,” Jason hisses. “Are you my boy or aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Dick breathes softly, and when they part Jason strips his jacket off, draping it around Dick’s shoulders and then keeping his arm there, tucking Dick possessively into him. 

They’re let into the upper balconies with a quiet nod and an immediate bottle of high shelf whiskey, and when they turn into one of the alcoves the group already sitting there vacates immediately. Dick’s eyebrow raises in surprise and admiration; when they sit Jason sprawls, smug and throwing his weight around just for Dick to see him do it. 

Dick goes to the railing, looking down on the writhing bodies below. He’s flexing his forearm to the beat, a movement so subtle Jason’s not sure he knows he’s doing it. Dick was always an incredible dancer, Jason remembers, when he’d been Robin they’d worked together on a case in one of Penguin’s clubs. It had been enough to make Jason blush, never been kissed and watching Dick Grayson move to the thrum of the music. Just the same way he fights, and Jason’s never not been able to admire it since, the effortless way he moves his body and the exquisite control of his movements. Liquid grace made beauty, just the same throwing a haymaker as it is twisting his hips to the beat.

Movement in the corner of Jason’s eye; he beckons and Dick answers, slipping into his lap and curling an arm around Jason’s shoulders. 

“Red Hood,” a man greets. Jason recognizes him from Dick’s dossiers: a middleman but a high ranking one.

Jason jerks his head in acknowledgment. “Davis.”

“You know my name. I’m flattered.” Davis sits across from them, his back to the flashing lights. He pours them each two fingers of whiskey, expensive weighted glass tumblers, and then pauses. “And your friend?”

Jason slips a finger into Dick’s mouth, watching his cheeks hollow and his throat work, feeling the wet drag of Dick’s tongue and the suckle of his teeth. “He hasn’t earned it yet.”

His withdraws his finger, wiping it on Dick’s cheek, and turns him so he’s sitting facing out, his back to Jason’s chest, his legs over Jason’s. He pulls Dick close, his palm lazily dragging over Dick’s throat. 

“A very fine companion,” Davis says diplomatically. “The entire club noticed him when he came in.”

“Mmhm,” Jason agrees, tightening his grip. Dick’s chest hitches, trying to inhale and unable to draw a deep breath. After a long pause, Jason relaxes his hand and Dick sucks in a lungful of air, shaky and shivering. “He had all kinds of interesting friends, too.” He looks up, cocky and smirking. “I didn’t realize how lucrative your trade could be.”

“We have kept very firmly to our sector,” Davis says carefully, and Jason realizes: he’s here to make nice. They think the Red Hood is offended they’ve taken up business in his territory, and they’re right to do so, because Jason is _livid_. But he forces his voice easy and his smile lazy.

“It wasn’t polite. But I like your style.” He drags a hand down Dick’s chest, and then up again, fingernails prickling at the skin exposed through the mesh. “And I like your bottom line.” He takes a sip of the whiskey, not as long and deep as he makes it look. “Let’s talk business.”

 

They have a meet for next week, for Jason to observe one of the auctions. They shake on it. “Until next week,” Jason says.

“Please enjoy,” Davis replies, and gives Dick, still in Jason’s lap like an accessory, a significant look. He slips away and they’re as alone as they can be, tucked away on a sofa in a club packed with people. 

“Good,” Dick murmurs. His voice is hoarse; Jason had kept up the game of gently and persistently blocking his breath before letting him breathe again. The last two times Dick had muttered _thank you_ , so quiet Jason almost didn’t catch it. It’s possible it motivated him to close up the meeting more quickly than originally planned. “We’re getting close.”

“Yes,” Jason agrees. He pets down Dick’s chest again. “And if he doesn’t turn State’s Evidence, he’s mine.”

Dick frowns. “Late in the game to add caveats.”

“Somehow I don’t think you mind too much.” Jason cups him through his jeans. “You’ve been chafing this whole time, haven’t you?” He croons the last few words, and Dick’s breath hitches again, without any help from Jason. 

“I don’t mind,” Dick agrees, and then he’s bracing his hands on Jason’s thighs and twisting his body around and then he’s straddling Jason’s waist, their noses bumping together. “But only because I’m confident in my plan.”

“You are,” Jason agrees. “You always have been.”

Dick’s eyes sharpen. “Have I?”

Jason kisses him to distract him, licking into his slack inviting mouth, messy and wet.

It doesn’t work. “How long,” Dick murmurs, between kisses. “How long have I--”

“Shut up,” Jason snaps, biting under Dick’s jaw and grinding up against him. 

Dick slips out of his grip, sliding to his knees. Jason’s belt clinks when he undoes it; his hands have found their way into Dick’s hair. He can feel the music in his chest and the lights flash behind his closed eyes and there’s only a draft for a second before Dick’s mouth slips over his cock, taking him down to the root in one easy slide. 

“How long,” he asks, when he pulls away to kiss the tip and leave Jason groaning.

“Fucking exhibitionist,” Jason says, tugging at Dick’s hair. “Don’t be a tease on top of it.” Dick kisses the tip again, open mouthed and filthy, and Jason moans, helpless. “The way you fuckin’ look,” he pants. “Jesus.”

Dick licks him from tip to base. “Tell me, tell me how long you’ve been looking.”

Jason wrenches his head back by his hair. “Since the first time I saw you, Dickie, for fuck’s sake, I cooked for you, how more obvious can I--”

Dick swallows him down whole and Jason yelps, hips jerking up. He bumps the back of Dick’s throat and Dick makes wet choking sound, his eyes watering. It’s so pretty Jason has to do it again, and again, and again, until Dick’s drooling and swallowing as best he can, the weak fluttering muscles of his throat. Until a tear forms at the corner of Dick’s eye, until he’s thrusting up into nothing, still in those black jeans. Dick’s gripping his knees, chest heaving as he breathes thinly through his nose. 

Jason doesn’t have time to do anything but grunt before he’s coming like a freight train. 

Dick takes it all, until Jason pulls out and spills the last few spurts across his lips, his jaw, his cheek. “Jason,” he says, and his voice is hoarse and cracking.

“Yes,” Jason agrees, and drags two fingers across Dick’s face, gathering his come up and feeding it back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think! I'm on tumblr @ sunspill with a comic sideblog @ nahekalei

**Author's Note:**

> A couple more parts, maybe, but if you think this is a real casefic you're wrong it's just about porn.
> 
> let me know what you think and I'm on tumblr @ naheka


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